Page 108 of All We Need

“It’s fine.Ijust wanted to check in and…”Hetrails off, piquing my interest.

“And?”

“It’s fine.Forgetabout it.”

His vagueness frustrates me. “Papa?”

A deep sigh echoes down the line. “Wehave an issue inBerlin.Williamquit without notice and it’s left us in quite the pickle.”

Quite the pickle is an understatement.Williamis a senior investor based inEuropeand for the last nine months, he’s been working hard to nail down a deal with a small chain of boutique hotels inGermany.It’sa huge investment, something that would really put us on the map in a region we’ve barely scratched the surface of.

Without saying it,Iknow what he’s insinuating.

I sit up in the chair. “Whendo you need me there?”

“Aly, there are more important things.Youhave a lot on your plate.”

He’s not wrong, butIcan’t stay here forever.Heknows that.Iknow that.Everyonehere knows that.

“Give me until the end ofFebruary.Ican send someone from my team out there in the interim and familiarize myself with the project remotely,”Iinsist, voice even despite the pang of disappointment.

So that’s that.It’smore time thanIoriginally planned to have withBooth—and in town—yet somehow, it doesn’t feel like enough.

And because the universe loves to rub salt in the wound, the man himself walks in, smiling wide, a dishrag tucked into his apron and red bandanna tied around his head.It’sunfair he’s the perfect specimen of a man.It’seven crueler he’s turned out to be one of the most incredible too.

“Hey, beau—Oh,my bad.”Thelast of his sentence drops to a whisper when he sees the phone pressed to my ear.

Holding up a finger,Iswivel in the chair. “Sendme the details,Papa.I’msorryIhave to go, butI’llcall tonight.Givemy love toMama.Ilove you.”

“Was that yourspecialfriend?” he asks coyly.

The tips of my ears burn. “Goodbye,Father,”Ireply flatly, and his deep laughter is heard untilIhang up.

WhenIspin back around, my face shows no signs of the news my dad shared asIgiveBootha small smile.It’sironic, because it wasn’t long ago he was praying for my mysterious disappearance.Nowthe idea of telling him has a sour taste lingering in my mouth.

“Your dad?”Hesettles into the chair opposite.

“Mm-hmm.”Asmall divot forms between his eyes at my brusqueness.Myface might be under control, but my voice isn’t. “Sorry.Justlots going on.Areyou finished for the day?”

“Yeah.Clockedoff,Boss.”Hesalutes me.

I roll my eyes. “Don’tcall me that.”

He saunters over, perching himself on the corner of the desk beside me and ducks his head.Ashiver runs through me asBooth’ssmoky scent assaults my senses. “What, amIonly to call you that in the bedroom,Boss?”

“You’re ridiculous.”Ilaugh and push his face away.

We share a smile, the air between us buzzing, our greedy gazes never quite getting their fill.Hiseyes dart left, breaking the connection, andIfollow.Theclock reads five p.m., but it may as well scream it.

We’re meetingMartinat 5:30.

“You can change your mind, you know?”Booth’sdeep timbre cuts through the haze.God, it’s incredible how well he can read me.

I continue to follow the hands of the clock.

Tick.Tock.Tick.Tock.

CouldIchange my mind?ShouldI?

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